#monstrvm

"Do you truly despise me, Gray?" He whispers, stepping in to close the distance between them, a grip so tight in the other's hair, his knuckles are white. The truth comes now; a need deep it can be felt in their bond. At least, Alastair did. Keen hues search Gray's visage, looking for anything at this point, "Your stubbornness, your change— accept what you are! All will be free." /Alastair.

                                    The answer was crafted, edging at the tip of his tongue before a hiss corrupted his words under the influence in such intrusion  of the grip invading every sense imaginable. Being close as he dared, subjected the new blood with an overlay in smells.  Namely all that identified as the Elder’s own. Confusion at first ignited his gaze forward, wildly and sporadically setting objects within the poorly lit room as a fetched distraction.  Hues however thinned, scrutiny would object from his peripheral , rigid was his body ; upheld defense embarked the touch and lack of distance between.  His demeanor construed instantly the discomfort in the matter.  He yearned the closure , yet scorned his own instinctual spike. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed. “  You would not be here if I did “  venomous was the outlet, a barrier he threw up indefinitely.  Suggestive that had he truly despised him, he would have left the Lycan to his fate.

“  Would you have me obediently fall in line like all the rest ? “  Direct and precise to the point, one which troubled him over being his creation.  Mulishly spiteful , if the lunar chart was all to blame for his heightened malice or a combination of his fear at what he felt , smelled. Conjuring the lashing out the only way he felt comfortable in doing so , refusing to admit what inception plagued his mind.

@monstrvm​ said: ❝ will you be joining me? ❞ /Regis

Even though she was eyeless it was clear that her gaze was off elsewhere, her mind drifted to times long since past. Simpler times, quieter times, before humans had complicated it all. When she had yet to feel the sting of loss. A shadow of a frown could be seen on her face before the sound of Regis’s voice snapped her out of her reverie.

“Hmmm?” an inquisitive trill left her as she turned to look at him, flickers of a defensive mask crossed her face before she softened. Around any other, she would be irritated by being caught distracted such as she had, but it was Regis. One of very few she trusted wholeheartedly. Recollecting their conversation, Drathenia offered him a sheepish smile.

“Yes, of course. Forgive me, Regis, my mind was elsewhere. A lakeside stroll would be most pleasant at this hour.”

@monstrvm​ said:  ❝ why help those who don’t listen? ❞ /S ON

“My thought’s exactly, dear,” She murmured, her effort to mask the bitterness in her tone was in vain. Countless times she had attempted to turn mortals onto the right path, to guide them away from self-destruction, but she was always met with resistance. A clawed hand rested on Rathain’s shoulder and she then steered him away from the village, soon to meet its demise in the clutches of plague and famine. They continued to drink the rancid water, despite the warnings. Turning her back on the settlement a final time, she spoke gravely.

“One could argue it is the right thing to do, but then no one would learn. Sometimes, they will only learn from the harshest of lessons.” 

@monstrvm said:  “ why is there blood stains on my sheets? ” /Rathie

Mathieu huffs softly, his fingers brushing against the dry blood stains on the sheets. He’s blinking sleep from his eyes, the Assassin turning in the bed. There’s a small grimace of pain, his entire body aching. He say’s nothing in response, instead he lifts a hand and points at the deep claw wounds left on his back.

@monstrvm​ said: " look at all this blood . . . " desire, or plain hunger ( fuck, even love even ), he can't pinpoint the feeling in the back of his clenched throat but he's enjoying it. Maybe his Assassin is too, aroused and pretty beneath his claws and the Vampyre purrs darkly, " You are beautiful. "

The kill is fresh, a contract Mathieu stalked out into the woods and struck down silently. He cut their throat so deep the blood had covered him, head nearly severed from neck. There were specks on his face, and in his hair. Pale fingers covered in the warm red substance (he had forgone gloves for this kill). Reaching up they trace the hollow of Rathain’s throat, streaking the blood down. He had hoped the smell, and the sight would lure his Vampyre from the woods. His heart is pounding from the claws that trace his jaw, so dangerously close to his neck. Adrenaline rushes in his veins, and he can’t tell if it is from the kill or from the vulnerable position he has left himself in. Either way he savors the feeling.

“I would not fret, dearest Regis, humans are forgetful creatures,” Drathenia soothed, extending a reassuring hand that then gripped his forearm and gave a light squeeze. Releasing her hold she returned her hands to wrap around the tankard of mandrake spirits, thumbing at the rim. She did not need to drink, but she did enjoy sharing one with an old friend. An old friend in need of consolation.